


Sunset

by orphan_account



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There will come a day when she doesn't think about him anymore, but today is not that day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset

 

There will come a day when she doesn't think about him anymore, but today is not that day.

It won't be after they've said goodbye to everyone, not after they ride in the honeymoon-decked car like a couple chasing the horizon of their beginning.

But they began much longer ago than that, and what's why she's here today. To celebrate the culmination of, what others call, the most important day in Oliver Queen's life. She's part of it.

There's rice on the ground she walks on and her heels dig down between the stone pebbles. She knows she should have worn low heels, even flats, but this was too big of an occasion. Plus, she wanted to look nice. Especially nice, not just for him, but for everything they were leaving behind.

There's a lot of people in the crowd outside, a lot more people than she's comfortable with, but they're all here to see Oliver Queen married and she couldn't deny them that.

He's looking happy. His jaw is tight, coming out of church, set, before he sees the people outside and flashes a grin like he's competing with the sun. He'll win it, she knows. His smile, the one that's true and genuine and other people don't get to see often, it outshines a galaxy of stars.

Just like hers. But this is not a time to reminisce.

She sees the doors to the black, decked-out Rolls Royce open and the light leather seats look smooth, comfortable, expensive, everything a life of happy luxury should be. And that's the life he has ahead of him--one part of his life, anyway.

It's not like he's hung up the hood. The only thing that can make him do that is an arrow, or worse, a bullet, to his heart. But he's already taken an arrow to the heart, figuratively. _Thankfully_ , figuratively, she should say. She knows because it's the same for her.

The doors close and the couple is protected from the jovial crowd, isolated into a world of their own. There's so many smiles in that crowd, people still throwing rice, familiar faces in lovely elegant dresses and men in nice suits and they're all wearing smiles like crowns, and Felicity can't help but feel it's fitting, somehow, for a Queen to be surrounded by crowns.

The car begins driving away, beige and black wheels smoothly gliding away from the church. The Rolls heads up the slope in the distance, down, out of sight.

 

Standing on top of the church stairs, Felicity can't keep faking this smile. She can't stand there, pretending to smile, not when there's not anybody around to pretend for anymore.

She gives the bouquet to a young girl, member of the bride's family, who smiles like a small star and shows it off to her friends as Felicity heads into the church, sitting far in on one of the benches . Out of sight, out of mind. This is not her church, not her version of God but if he's really with them all the time she thinks he won't mind. She's been in worse locations, situations, before.

She wonders if this isn't the most painful.

She sits there, alone, hiding sobs behind hands covering her mouth. A priest gives her a concerned look but she dismisses him with a wave, and he lets her be, lets her cry, because she needs this rinse. After today, there's no going back.

She'll go back out there and return to the crowd when she's ready. She'll go out there, straight to her red SUV, and drive until the pain stops. That's a plan. Plans are good. They help keep you moving.

As she's about to exit church, she nearly runs into the priest. He apologizes, she apologizes, and she can't move for the door because he's standing in the doorway.

"Friend of the bride?" he asks, looking at her pale pink dress. It's lovely, really. Right now all she wants to do is burn it.

"His friend, actually. Or, not, _friend_ -friend, but--I work for him."

The priest nods. "He's done a lot of good for this city these past years. Deserves to be happy, someone like that."

"Yes. He does."

The priest nods at her once, slowly, an expression that isn't judging or reading but just _is_. Those are the most difficult because that's when she sees herself through others eyes. She can't say anything, not now, not here, because if she does everything's going to come at once and she doesn't want that. She has trouble enough getting over that all this is still happening.

 

She drives past the crowd standing around the cars, a big crowd, expensive cars, clothes, women so lifted they've lost all their natural facial expressions. Felicity doesn't care. She'll read about who was there in the newspaper tomorrow. It's not like anyone missed that Oliver Queen's getting married.

'Childhood sweethearts', the newspaper read after their engagement was announced last month. 'True love' was another favourite, especially since the wedding date was set.

And she? She was just filler in a bad sunset.

But she'll get over him. She has to.

 

There will come a day when she won't think about him anymore.

But right now all she can think about is Oliver Queen and his wife Laurel Lance, and she knows today is not that day.


End file.
